But the Affghan, though living on fruits, is far from being a harmless
and amiable character; on the contrary, he is cruel, covetous, and
treacherous. Much British blood has been shed in the valleys of
Affghanistan.

We cannot blame the Affghans for defending their own country. It was
natural for them to ask, "What right has Britain to interfere with us?"

A British army was once sent to Affghanistan to force the people to have
a king they did not like, instead of one they did like.

I will tell you of a youth who accompanied his father to the wars. This
boy looked forward with delight to going as a soldier to a foreign land,
and his heart beat high when the trumpet sounded to summon the troops to
embark. Joyfully he quitted Bombay, crossed the Indian Ocean, and landed
near the mouth of the Indus. When the army began its march towards
Affghanistan, he rode on a pony by his father's side.

At first it seemed pleasant to pitch the tent in a new spot every day, to
rest during the heat, and to travel in the dead of the night, till the
sun was high in the sky. But soon this way of life was found fatiguing,
for the heat was great, and the water scarce. The air, too, was clouded
by the dust the troops raised in marching; and green grass was seldom
seen, or a shady tree under which to rest. The food, too, was dry and
stale, and no fresh food could be procured, for the Affghans, before they
fled, destroyed the corn and fruit growing in the fields, that their
enemies might not eat them. The camels, too, which bore the baggage of
the British army, grew ill from heat and thirst; for it is not true that
camels can live _long_ without water; in three or four days they die.
Besides this, the hard rocks in the hilly country hurt their feet, and